


Sherbet

by ExplodedPen



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-24
Updated: 2007-08-24
Packaged: 2017-11-05 07:22:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExplodedPen/pseuds/ExplodedPen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>In the grand scheme of things the sherbet was nothing. In the grand scheme of things Sam Tyler was a stupid, crazy fuck-up who’d tried to ruin them all only to change his mind.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherbet

**Author's Note:**

>   Written for the 2007 ficathon for [](http://almostmarriedme.livejournal.com/profile)[ **almostmarriedme**](http://almostmarriedme.livejournal.com/)who requested **cortina, sherbet fountain , deathfic** Here's hoping this fits the bill :)

Gene was almost surprised when he reached his Cortina. When they’d dragged him away he’d just started walking, not caring he’d let his entire team see him lose it, not even caring his coat was trailing on the floor.

 

It was all so surreal, like a nightmare he couldn’t wake from, one that had dragged him under till he drowned, sucking all the life from him.

 

He opened the driver’s side door and tossed his coat inside. He should’ve binned it, it wasn’t like he could wear it again, it wasn’t like he could ever get the stain out – even if he could it’d just be a permanent reminder of failure. His failure.

 

But then there were reminders of his failure everywhere. Including a tiny white splatter of sherbet imprinted into the carpet on the passengers side.

 

_ "What are you doing? You get sherbet on my car, Tyler and I'll -" _

__

_ "Christ! I'm not gonna get sherbet on the car!" _

__

_ "Oy Gladys, eat it, don't bloody pleasure it! That liquorice is for dippin', it isn't a soddin' lollipop." _

__

_ "Can I not just eat this in peace?" _

__

_ "You're doing it wrong!" _

__

_ "How am I doing it wrong? It's a sherbet fountain not rocket science!"  _

__

_ “Dammit Sam!” _

__

_ “What?!” _

__

_ “Sherbet! On the bastard carpet!” _

__

Gene leant over and scrubbed viciously at the powder, but it stubbornly refused to shift, a bright white patch glaring up at him accusingly from the brown carpet.

 

Eventually he stopped and settled back in the driver’s seat.

 

In the grand scheme of things the sherbet was nothing. In the grand scheme of things Sam Tyler was a stupid, crazy fuck-up who’d tried to ruin them all only to change his mind.

 

And yet he’d still forgiven him. Even though it hurt, even though it’d made him doubt his gut reaction, he’d forgiven him. Almost instantly. Not that it made everything alright again.

 

Only he’d never let Sam know, understanding that he had to take side with the rest of the team, show them that betrayal wasn’t easily forgiven even if that wasn’t how he privately felt. No, Sam had to find his place in the team again

 

He rested his hands against the steering wheel and wondered if that had been his first mistake, keeping Sam on after he’d tried to betray them. Maybe if he hadn’t Sam would be back in Hyde. 

 

Maybe he would still be alive.

 

_ "Guv? For what it's worth...I'm sorry." _

__

_ "Sorry for what? Sorry for trying to shop us all in? Or sorry that you got caught?" _

__

_ "Guv it wasn't like that - I didn't know! Morgan, he, he offered me a way to go home." _

__

_ "You have a home." _

__

_ "I know that now." _

__

_ "Trust, Tyler. It's all about trust, and right now if you weren't such a good copper I'd have you out of this department so fast it'd make your head spin. You want people to start trusting you again? You want the whispers and the name-callin' to stop? Tough. You made your bed, now lie in it." _

 

Gene scrubbed at his face with a tired hand, grimacing at the dry texture. He lowered his hand and stared at it. Stared at Sam’s blood flaking on his palm. He’d seen blood before. Hell he’d seen no end of shit in his career, but this disgusted and unnerved him more than anything else. It was Sam’s blood. Sam Tyler. His DI. That stupid bastard’s blood coated his hand.

 

And he’d just wiped it across his face.

 

He curled his hand into a fist and slammed it against the steering wheel. “Dammit Sam! It should’ve been me you stupid, stupid bastard…it should’ve been me…”

 

He pulled a hip flask from his pocket raised it to his lips and paused. He let it fall from his fingers watching with disinterest as it bounced off his knee and onto the floor spilling its contents all over his beloved Cortina.

 

He knew he should probably care, that it’d probably stain. But then what was one more stain?

Sam… Sam would probably make some crack about Gene’s lack of interest or pull that stupid face he always pulled when he was concerned or thinking about something.

 

Maybe it’d balance out the sherbet stain.

 

_ "Sorry..." _

__

_ "Tyler? Sam? Come on Sammy-boy, don’t sleep. Come on; open your eyes for me. They're getting the ambulance for you. It's gonna be ok, Sam, everything's gonna be alright. We got the bastard; we got enough on him to have him jailed for thirty years. Come on, Sam, wake up and gloat about how you were right, you may as well enjoy it because it's only happenin' this once. Come on, Gladys, it's a flesh wound at best; I've had worse nicks from shavin'! _

__

_ "Sam? No...no...don't you dare! Don't you dare, Sam Tyler that is a fucking order! WHERE'S THAT BLOODY AMBULANCE?! Sam! Sam please! Breathe you bastard! Breathe dammit! _

__

_ "No. No, he's not. He's not! Come on, Sam, prove her wrong. Wake up Sammy, please wake up. Fuck off Cartwright! HE’S NOT DEAD!" _

 

He’d apologised, that was what galled him more than anything else.Sam was bleeding heavily, the stain rapidly spreading across Gene’s coat as he tried to stem the bleeding. He was bleeding to death and he’d apologised. 

 

But Gene couldn’t force himself to tell the dying man he’d already been forgiven. 

 

He wondered if Sam knew, before the end. 

 

He wondered if Sam would ever know that Chris had been the one to shoot the gunman dead right after he fired, that Cartwright had sobbed over his corpse, that Ray had had to literally drag Gene away from Sam’s body because he just refused to believe that Sam was dead. 

 

He wondered if he knew.

 

Even now Gene half expected Sam to slide into the passenger seat. There would be a long silence finally ended by some meaningful look, and then one or the other would suggest the pub. They’d get blind drunk and then they’d never speak of it again.

 

Gene glanced hopefully at the passenger seat only to find his eyes tracking down to the white powder stain glaring accusingly up at him from the brown carpet.


End file.
